


Give a Little Bit

by pantheon_of_discord



Series: Even in the Quietest Moments [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Pre-S13, but. . ., this is partially for your benefit but also I was making myself sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantheon_of_discord/pseuds/pantheon_of_discord
Summary: Now's the time that we need to shareSo find yourself, we're on our way back home





	Give a Little Bit

**Author's Note:**

> [Give a Little Bit](https://open.spotify.com/track/1XDgeeNIbwXobo7EkcLa2u) by Supertramp  
> [My tumblr.](https://pantheonofdiscord.tumblr.com)

Dean’s fallen to his knees, just like he had before. Though his eyes are closed, he can sense the warm flicker of firelight, and he smells sage and incense and the metallic tang of blood. It’s nearing dawn, so the coarse, black sand of the beach is clumping together, and dew is soaking through his jeans. The only sound he’s properly aware of is the soft and steady _pat-pat-pat_ of droplets falling fast to the ground.

Sam had let go of him at some point, so now Dean’s having trouble staying upright, swaying where he kneels. There had been movement and other noise a little while ago, but it’s all starting to fade. Everything is muffled and his head is swimming in fog.

If Dean never sees this goddamn beach again, it’ll be too soon.

His consciousness is slipping quietly away, but then suddenly there are cold, shaking hands gripping his forearms. Dean fights to open his eyes; his vision is clouded by smoke and something else, so at first all he can see is the sharp contrast of skin and red. Then there’s a soft, white glow and his head clears. The blood stops dripping, all traces of it vanishing from his arms.

Slowly, too dazed to tamp down his hope, Dean raises his head. He still can’t see properly, so he blinks – over and over, cheeks growing wet – until he sees wide, blue eyes staring back at him.

Not for the first time, Dean wonders if angels need to breathe. His own heart seems to have stopped as well. They are both unmoving, suspended in a long, drawn-out moment of shock, but disbelief mingles with the barest trace of hope.

Then Cas’ mouth moves, his lips forming _Dean_ without a sound, and Dean pulls him in. His arms wrap around Cas’ neck; Cas buries his face in Dean’s shoulder and grips him tight, his fingers twisting into the fabric of Dean’s jacket.

Dean finally lets himself fall, sinking all the way down to the ground, but Cas goes with him. They collapse together, hands clutching even harder, neither of them pulling back an inch. They stay like that until Dean feels the morning sun start to warm his face.

//

Cas is anxious and shaky. He doesn’t seem to like bright lights, and he startles at loud noises. Dean helps him crawl into the back seat, casts one last look at the sunrise glinting off the water, then puts the cabin in the rearview mirror.

He makes it less than two miles before he’s pulling off to the side of the highway, stepping out of the car, and sliding into the backseat beside Cas. Sam doesn’t say a word, just slides across the bench and pulls them back out onto the road.

Relief is naked on Cas’ face, but he still hesitates, unsure, until Dean draws him close again.

“Thank you,” he breathes, and ducks his head down to half-rest on Dean’s chest.

Dean doesn’t respond, but after a moment he moves his free hand over and braids their fingers together. Cas squeezes his hand, and he doesn’t let go.

It’s a long drive back to the bunker, Dean’s exhausted and overwhelmed, but he doesn’t close his eyes for an instant.

//

It’s late when they pull into the garage. Sam wraps them both up in a hug before hefting his bag onto his shoulder and leaving for his room.

Dean’s hands are shaking as he reaches for Cas, and they walk down the hallway in silence. There had been no discussion, not even a glance between them, but together they slip out of their jackets and shoes and crawl into Dean’s bed.

“I saw you,” Cas says, face inches from Dean’s own. Their fingers curl together again on the mattress between them. “Where I was – I saw you there. You stayed with me.”

“I dreamed of you,” Dean says back, quiet. “I saw you every time I closed my eyes. You died in front of me, but I guess you never left me either.”

//

When they come together, it’s quiet. They move slowly, cautiously, terrified of losing this but desperate in their joy. Soon both of them are trembling and shaking apart. The grip of Cas’ hands is hard enough to bruise, but the brush of his lips is feather-soft. The only sounds in the room are choked-out breaths and the whispering slide of the sheets. When Dean falls, Cas follows – tears in both their eyes.

After, Dean drags his thumb through the wetness on Cas’ cheek. “Promise that’s the last time I’ll lose you.”

Cas’ eyes are soft. “I can’t. I can’t promise that any more than you can. That’s not what we are.”

Dean nods and looks away, but Cas reaches out a hand and tilts his chin back up, kissing him gently.

“But I can promise that until then, I won’t go. I’ll stay with you, and I’ll love you.”

Dean swallows roughly. “Okay. Guess I can promise that too.”

//

In the morning, Dean wakes slowly. He feels the deep ache in his chest and keeps his eyes shut, trying to remember the details of his dream. Cas was alive; Dean had held him in his arms. If he could only fall asleep again.

“It’s alright, Dean.”

He feels the back of a hand brush across his cheek. There’s warm breath tickling across his lips. Dean sucks in a breath, and he opens his eyes. “Are you really here?”

Cas smiles like the dawn. “I’m here. I’m home.” 


End file.
